


The Games We Play

by catos_coven



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: 75th Hunger Games, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:29:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1286122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catos_coven/pseuds/catos_coven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Katniss' death sends Prim into the Third Quarter Quell with all of the other Victors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Games We Play

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so this is my first ever fanfic, so please be as rough as you like. I've never written anything creative before and am honestly just doing this as a way to fill my time. I have a pretty good idea of where I wanna go with this fic but I am totally open to ideas and all that good stuff. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this!.

It had been so much fun getting to watch Katniss’ bridal gown shoot on the television. She looked stunning; it turns out the dress that I thought she looked best in didn’t even make it to the top six dress choices. But who knows what they think over in the Capitol. Katniss always tells me about how awful the people in the Capitol are; I don’t think they are that awful though. Venia, Flavius, Octavia, and Effie all seem wonderful, a little scatterbrained, but wonderful nonetheless. The only person I have an issue with is President Snow, I know his visit with Katniss didn’t go well by how she reacted after. She may be able to lie to our mother but she can’t lie to us.

“Prim! Get in here, lets see what special fun the Capitol has cooked up for us this year.” says Katniss with more sadness in her voice then anger. Every year up until now she had just seemed angry with the Games, but now that she’s a victor I think she just is scared for the kids who will have to go in. I walk into the living room, grabbing Buttercup on the way, and plop down on the couch between Katniss and my mother. We watch as Caesar Flickerman explains the importance of a Quarter Quell, which everyone already knows considering it’s all the Capitol programs have been talking about for the past few months. After Caesar’s explanation of the Quarter Quell we see President Snow step up to the podium with a yellow envelope in hand.

“This year for the third Quarter Quell,” he pauses for effect, “To remind the rebels that even the strongest of them cannot overcome the power and glory of the Capitol, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors.” I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, what does that even mean. My mom gasps next to me and begins to sob.

“No...no...not again…” I hear Katniss say and as she bolts out of the house I finally understand. Katniss is going back into the Arena. At first, I feel sad, but as time goes on I begin to become enraged. She already went to hell and back to bring District 12 two Victors home from the Games, a feat never before seen in all 75 years of the Games. Was this the Capitol’s plan all along. To let two tributes from the same District leave the Arena together only to put them back into the Games the next year? I wouldn’t doubt it. I’ve heard Katniss’ stylists talk about the Games, they just think they are entertainment. They don’t grasp the fact that the tributes are anything more than potential Capitol celebrities. They have their favorites every year, and until last year I doubt they even cared about the District 12 tributes. 

“They can’t let her go in again,” my mother says in a small voice, “they can’t.” 

“Mom, breathe, okay? We are gonna help her. Aren’t we?” mother gives a small nod while wiping at her eyes. “We are gonna make sure she get’s strong for those Games, we’re gonna make her like a Career. And she’s gonna come back.” 

“B-but P-Peeta.” my mom says as she begins to sob again. She is rather fond of the baker boy for helping Katniss survive the Games.

“Mom, there is only one person coming out of that Arena alive, and it has to be her.” I pause, “He can win too, if Katniss somehow doesn’t make it, he needs to be the one to win.” She nods and walks upstairs. I wince as the door slams. Katniss still isn’t back; hopefully she’s with Haymitch and Peeta. I just hope she isn’t in the woods. She was in the Hob when Thread made an announcement that they would be patrolling the fence all hours of the day. 

I continued to watch the Capitol programming that talked about the Quell. Caesar didn’t seem too happy about losing his favorite “Lethal Lovers.” Then it hits me, the disgust, the anger, and the sadness that I feel towards Capitol citzens. They don’t seem to get that Victors have families and people they care about; why would they? They are so oblivious to the suffering in the Districts. Katniss talked about how on the Victory Tour it felt like people in the Districts were angry. But angry about what? There is a lot to be mad about here in 12, but in the other ones have it better than us. Or at least that’s what I always thought. I look at the clock, it’s nearing midnight and Katniss still isn’t back. So I decide to go to Haymitch’s house.

I put on one of Katniss’ fluffy coats and walk across the Victor’s Village to see if she was still talking with Haymitch and Peeta. I decide not to knock because I never have before. I open the door and my nose is assaulted by the scent of white liquor but I do my best to ignore it and make my way to the kitchen where Haymitch can normally be found. As I walk closer I hear two male voices. I pause.

“Haymitch, I don’t care what kind of promises Katniss is going to ask you to make, but she’s the one getting out of there alive. Not me.”

A slurred voice responds, “Peeta I can’t make any promises to you. This year everyone is a Victor, and they’ve known each other for years, you two are just gonna be targets for them.”

“Haymitch, I think you are forgetting that we also won our Games.”

“Peeta, there are no winner, just survivors. An empty shell of a person haunted by their time in the Games.” Haymitch says in a somber voice.

“Haymitch,” Peeta pauses, “Did you really think I didn’t know that? Do you think that you are the only one who can’t escape what they’ve seen in the Arena! I saw people, no not people, kids die. I killed someone! People died because of me!” He shouts.

I finally decide to make my presence known.

“Hello Peeta,” I nod politely to Haymitch, “Have you seen Katniss?”

“No Prim, I’m sorry, I figured she was with you and your mom.” I begin to feel uneasy.

“Oh,” I stop and think for a second “Umm well I guess I will go look for her then. Thank you though.” I begin to walk away. I turn around, “I am so sorry.”

I decide to walk towards our old home. The square is lit up and I see Ripper and a miner in the stocks. It’s terrible how much 12 has changed since Commander Thread came and took over. The Hob has already been burned down and people are constantly getting whipped and punished for breaking laws that I didn’t even know existed. Somehow they haven’t fixed the fence yet; I only know this because Katniss still brings home medicinal herbs that can only be found in the forest. I hear a loud noise and screaming. I sprint towards the noise, and I find something that I know I will see in my nightmares for the rest of my life. Katniss jerking violently as she is shocked by the fence. They must have turned the power back on but left the broken section broken in hopes of catching my sister. I manage to help her out and I half-carry half-drag Katniss into our old home. I put her on the bed and hold her hand.

“Prim,” she looks at me with tears in her eyes, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, it hurts so much Prim.” She grips my hand even harder.

“No Katniss, don’t say sorry, you don’t have to be sorry for anything.” my voice begins to crack as tears stream down my cheeks. Her grip gets even tighter. She looks at me and smiles.

“I’m so proud of you, my little duck. Tell mom I’m sorry and that I loved her.” Her grip on my hand is getting weaker and weaker.

“No!,” I sob, “C’mon Katniss, you can do it, you won the Games, you can handle a little shock.” I continue to hold on to her hand but I know there is nothing I can do once her hand stops trying to grip mine. Her eyes are closed, maybe she’s passed out. I force myself to check her pulse.

I feel nothing.

Katniss is dead.


End file.
